


Scars

by galatea11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galatea11/pseuds/galatea11
Summary: Byleth had never seen, much less healed, so many scars.Post time skip, Healer Byleth x Dimitri





	Scars

Byleth always noticed the little things. That Dimitri prefers a pen in his left hand, but a lance in his right. The extra bags under his eyes from late nights by candlelight in the library. The thick calluses on both palms, rough from extra practice. The way he sometimes snuck glances of admiration when she wasn’t looking. 

Even after five years, she could still see the signs. Ever since they got back from the skirmish, Dimitri was hiding a limp, his left leg dragging ever so slightly. His body shook with exhaustion. His eyes were clouded from insomnia. He clung perpetually to his iron lance, like a toddler might to a favorite toy. She wondered if he slept holding it, the cold iron his only companion on dark nights. For a moment she felt a wave of regret. She should have been there for him.

Byleth extended a hand. “Show me your wounds.” It was a command, not a question.

“I’m fine. Leave me be.”

“I will not leave you be for your wounds to fester and catch an infection. Now show me, or I’ll undress you myself.”

Dimitri was momentarily surprised. For the first time she had a feeling that Dimitri had finally really noticed she was there. The Byleth he remembered was never so demanding.

“I’ll fetch a healer. There’s no reason to burden you with it.” Dimitri grimaced. His body wasn’t pretty, and while he never particularly cared, the idea of his scars under Byleth’s piercing gaze made him shudder.

Byleth gave a small sigh. “You’re looking at the best healer around.” She realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this approach. “Do you remember when you and Felix had a training bout so fierce that you nearly lost a limb? It was quite an intense session, and I was right there to cheer you on and patch you up.” She remembered those days fondly.

“We’re not at the training grounds anymore.” Dimitri was entirely unaffected, his voice cold.

“No, but I’ve seen your scars before. I’ve seen you wounded, and I’ve seen you heal. But I can’t help heal your wounds if you won’t let me in.” Byleth reached forward, and Dimitri immediately jerked back. It was an instinctive reaction. In the past five years, the only people who have reached towards him were aiming for his neck.

For a moment, pain registered on her face. He had reacted like she was about to attack him.

“I didn’t mean to. I, I…” Dimitri seemed genuinely repentant at his unintended action.

Byleth took his face in her hands. His face was covered in blood and grime. Even though she was shorter, it felt like she was towering over him.

“Look at me, Dimitri. Don’t look away.” She glared fiercely at him, pinning his head straight forward. “I’m not a ghost. I’m here. Your Professor. Your Byleth.”

Dimitri tried to jerk away, but Byleth didn’t let him. She grabbed his hand, and put it on her cheek. “Feel me, Dimitri. Touch me. I’m real, and I’m not going away.” Emotion charged in her voice. Byleth, usually as composed and aloof as a goddess, was trying to atone for her mistakes. “I wasn’t here for you these past five years, but I am now.”

Words alone weren’t going to reach Dimitri. But her touch, her actions, her conviction, her by his side… maybe over time, she could. No, she had to. There were enough casualties already. But this one, this one could she could prevent.

Dimitri swayed a little from sheer exhaustion, pushing his cheek into her hand. It had been so many years since he’s felt the gentle warmth of another human being, rather than the blood of someone’s insides. His eyes felt moist, but he refused to let it show.

He leaned into her more, until his chin rested on her shoulder and his arms around her. He was getting her robes dirty, but neither of them cared. They stayed like this for a few precious minutes, simply acknowledging each other’s presence.

Byleth here still felt like a ghost. A ghost of his past, come to haunt him. But with his warmth between his arms, she felt more solid. Not just a figment to haunt him, but a soul by his side.

Then, slowly, Dimitri turned around. He was too exhausted to argue. He was silent as he felt her hands taking off his cape, her fragile fingers unclasping his breastplate and the rest of his armor. Without his armor, he felt bare. Naked. Nothing between him and the rest of the world. Nothing to hide his wounds, his festering scars.

There were bruises and scars all along his back, hard with muscle. Far more than Byleth remembered. His muscles were tense and knotted like a ball, always on guard.

Byleth held her hands forward, glowing with recovery magic. She loosened the tension in his neck, closed up the small cuts, and applied some pressure to the sore bruises. She worked her way down, from his back to his arms and legs. Recovery magic was often uncomfortable, if not painful, but it was a good sort of pain. It was an acceleration of what the body did naturally.

The years had been hard on his body. She had never seen, much less healed someone with so many scars, visible and hidden.

She went to her medicinal cache, and grabbed a tall long bottle. “This’ll help with any pain.” At least, with physical pain. She opened it and smothered it generously over her hands. She touched the nape of his neck, then very delicately, the tissue around his eye. He shuddered from the contact. His neck was cold, and the oil was warm.

She applied generously on top of all of the wounds. At first contact, it stung a little, but the afterglow was pleasant. His muscles were hard and unyielding under her touch. 

While Byleth had healed Dimitri’s wounds in battle, she had never touched him so intimately before. In some ways, it felt like she invaded something deeply private. But in other ways, she knew that she needed to do this, or else Dimitri might be lost forever.

Dimitri slumped into bed, exhausted. Recovery magic really took a toll on one’s stamina.

His grasp on sanity, on reality, was fading. She could see it in his eyes. One, already gone, self-inflicted. The other, clouded by pain. Bloodlust. Guilt.

“Professor…” Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids.

“I’m no longer your Professor. Call me Byleth.”

“Byleth…” Her name felt strange on his lips, like he wasn’t worthy of saying it.

“Your eye… does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

Still, Byleth needed to check. She reached towards the eyepatch, and Dimitri instinctively pulled away.

“No, I’m… I’m broken.”

“Then I’ll patch you up every time. I promise.” After a long moment, Dimitri nodded. But through the river of blood, she saw a thread. A thread that was the core of the ideals Dimitri once stood for, a distant memory of a prince who wished for a better nation. Hope. A future. That thread was all she needed. 

Carefully, she lifted the eyepatch, and then his eyelid. The cornea was missing, and surrounded by red tissue. Even if Dimitri said it no longer hurt, Byleth was not so sure he was telling the truth. In that moment, Byleth didn’t think too much of her actions. She simply did what she needed to do. She leaned forward, and kissed both his eyelids, her lips barely brushing the tops of his lashes.

“I’m here now,” was all Dimitri heard as he fell into dreamless slumber.

For the first time in five years, Dimitri slept soundly. Rather than clutching iron and blood, he held warm, fragile hands. Hands that promised to help him put his broken pieces back together, stitch his wounds into proud scars. Hands that healed.


End file.
